


Haunt

by shazzado



Category: Original Work
Genre: Addiction, Ghosts, Haunting, Love, Original work - Freeform, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23291884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shazzado/pseuds/shazzado
Summary: I live with a ghost. This has become very clear to me in the last couple of months for a multitude of reasons.





	Haunt

I live with a ghost. This has become very clear to me in the last couple of months for a multitude of reasons. I think I knew that I was being haunted for a while, but I was in denial. Not because I don’t believe in ghosts, and not because I had only seen what ghosts do in movies. I guess I thought that I could never have a ghost in  _ my  _ house, or that haunting was something that happened to other people. But here I am, all the same, ghostly presence everywhere.

There were signs at first. There are always signs that a ghost is around. It’s just up to you to decide to take them as signs, and not as coincidences or misrememberings. Signs like plates that weren’t where you placed them, or laundry strewn across the floor when you could have sworn you picked it up. I would gather the laundry and move the plates back, muttering to myself about being forgetful or messy. Sometimes the place would look the same but there was just someone else’s presence - not like there was someone waiting for me, just that there  _ was _ someone. 

The ghost became harder to deny when it became comfortable with my presence, I think. A misplaced sock became an upturned laundry basket. A single moved glass became a pile of dishes I didn’t remember making. Still, for a while I did the dishes, cajoling myself for making so many without realizing. I’m a very busy person, and it’s possible I just didn’t notice the mess I was making while I was working, or thinking, or involved in other hobbies. I would sometimes catch a figure out of the corner of my eye, standing there or moving from room to room as though alive. That was always a trick of the eyes to me, or a trick of the light - the lighting was so poor in my house. When I moved houses and the figure still appeared, moving boxes and standing in doorways, I really had to think about what it could be. 

When I first considered it, I thought I had to be crazy. There was no movement that couldn’t be explained, no shadow without a source! I doubled-down on my denial, explaining away every interaction or event. I blamed myself even harder for the missing keys and the empty milk containers. I tried to ignore the icy air I’d step through and the squeaking door latches in the middle of the night. But soon enough, try as I might, I couldn’t ignore all of the signs that there was something haunting me. It followed me sometimes, to the store or the post office, even making static on the car radio. A few times I felt it when I went to a neighboring city, just sitting there beside me or placing canned items in my shopping cart that I didn’t want to eat myself. I would hear whispers of a voice, not something I could understand, but a slurry of consonants and vowels all the same. 

After some careful consideration, I could finally admit that there was a ghost in my house. It felt good to admit this. Once I started to tell this to myself, it seemed like things were manageable and I could figure out a way to get things back to normal. I knew I couldn’t tell other people or they would think I was insane, so I did research by myself. I tried to sage the house and only ended up coughing my lungs out. I tried to connect with it through candles and prayer. I researched the history of the area to see if I couldn’t uncover some hidden tragedy. I even started to attempt to interact with it directly to try to see if I could find out what it wanted! But it was all out of my hands. The ghost was there, seemingly, to stay. I had to accept that there was nothing in my power to make the ghost go away. There was an opportunity to make peace and try to help the ghost, and that was all.

So I tried to accept the ghost into my life. I would talk to it, or try to. It would never answer in a way that made sense. I would tell this apparition that I didn’t mind it being there and that it was better than living alone. This seemed to appease it sometimes. But the thing had moods that were becoming both clearer and more nonsensical to me. I would try to compliment the ghost and it would respond calmly one moment, then knock my chairs over the next. I would ignore it, and it would push steam into my face, then straighten up my bookshelf later. It never tried to hurt me, but it seemed to hurt itself. I sympathized with the thing but tried not to show pity lest I insult it. I started to really care for it, fragile as its temper was. Sometimes it would disappear for days - its presence there but strangely silent. This saddened me, but its mood swings and behavior would upset me once it returned. It was a loveable ghost, but it was becoming increasingly inconvenient to have around. I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t.

The ghost often lays beside me in bed. I can feel its cold presence next to me, just beyond reach. I’m not sure if I would reach for it if I could. It scares me sometimes, though I feel that it’s mostly harmless. I like to pretend it breathes deeply and rests, though I know that as a ghost it can never truly rest. I wonder what it thinks of me, and why it likes to stay near me even when I hurt its feelings. At least, that’s how I interpret it. 

I ask my ghost to help me every now and again. I’m never surprised when it doesn’t do what I asked, but I’m usually disappointed. The thing lives in my house, moves my dishes around, sleeps in my bed, and makes things disappear, but still isn’t considerate enough to fold my clothes or sweep my floor. I’ll talk sharply at it and vent at it, even though I know it’s probably not the apparition’s fault. It probably couldn’t do the dishes if it wanted to. I know I never want to do chores either, so the excuse of being a ghost must be nice. It usually hides for a while when I yell at it, and that makes me feel worse - both because I’m yelling at a poor creature that can’t help itself and because I feel like I’m doing the work of two people while living alone.

Technically.

Every now and again, the ghost will leave me. I sometimes don’t even register its presence until it’s no longer there. When that happens, I feel like a part of my home - a part of me - is missing, even though I know that’s silly. It’s just a ghost! It’s not something I can reason with or talk to, so there’s no reason for me to feel sad! That just means there’s less work for me to do! Still, the melancholy creeps. 

It left for several weeks once, and I wandered aimlessly around the house, acting like a ghost myself. It’s amazing how a single presence changed my worldview, and that presence missing takes a chunk of me right out of me. When it returned, I was ecstatic. I tried to make it happy and did the things it liked for me to do. But ghosts aren’t people that change and grow, and the ghost acted in the same mysterious way it always did. Eventually I got fed up with the ghost hiding my remotes and emptying all of my containers of juice. I screamed at the ghost, wondering what I ever did to deserve such treatment from a creature that can’t seem to help itself. I yelled every abuse I could think of, trying to get it as riled up as it made me. I mocked it and berated it, unable to help myself. 

But nothing happened. The ghost was still there. And the ghost acted just the same.

Sometimes I think the ghost wants to leave me, especially when I’m unpleasant. I know it can’t be easy living with me, just as it isn’t easy to live with a ghost. But I can’t imagine a life without a ghost in it now that I’ve accepted the ghost. I don’t know if the ghost could leave me for good if it wanted to. Maybe I’m the one haunting them, leaving them unable to escape. I’d feel bad if I was the one causing them to stay and haunt. I don’t want the ghost to go away, even when I’m frustrated and everything is upside down and the house is cold as a winter morning. 

The truth is, I love the ghost in my house. It’s my ghost whether or not it gets easier to live with. I tell it that, unable to tell if it really understands what I mean. There’s no telling if the ghost will start to see what I want or need from it, but I’m willing to do what it takes to find out if it is able to learn. I can put up with the hijinks and frustration it lends out. I think the ghost needs me too, even if that’s just conjecture on my part. I feel like the ghost has chosen me to haunt. I’d like to see this as a compliment. 

I have no way to know how to help my ghost. It can’t tell me, and I’m not sure it would trust me to tell me if it could. I’d love to see this ghost stop being a ghost - that is, become what it used to be before it became a ghost. I’m not sure it’s possible. There’s no literature on the subject. So I guess all that can be done is to live with the ghost until something happens, one way or another. The ghost, with all its mischief, wormed its way into my heart and I can’t bear to pull it out of there. 

I wish that my ghost wasn’t a ghost. But I live with it all the same. 


End file.
